He had an unaccountable feeling, a wish that they would break open. Then it would not be so difficult to breathe. But now as he glided through the waters of West Lake, among the lotuses, all was right once more. No longer was it difficult to breathe. The night was full of spring even though it was early autumn. A yellow moon hung low in the sky, or was it "the Rising Sun of Japan" glistening on the wide domains it would soon encompass. He laughed gut-terally. Some day Japan would control the world.
General Nishikori remained in the water until the first silver fingers of morning lifted to gently push aside the veil of night. Then with great reluctance, he came ashore, put on his clothes and became an important personage once more, the commandant of all the armies in Chekiang Province. However, he could not refrain from casting a glance over his shoulder at the enticing water of the lake. Never had he passed so glorious a night. Nor was he.aware that after ten long desolate years of constant defeat, the scales of fortune were tipping slowly in China's favor. In Szechwan and Hunan Provinces especially, old China, revitalized by supplies from the Allied Nations was slowly pushing back her enemies, topped by an especially brilliant victory at Changsha. Once more the tea of the Middle Kingdom was fragrant, free of its bitter, bitter taste.
General Nishikori walked about as though in a dream, little concerned with what was happening about him. He even ceased to deplore the necessity of putting out tubs of rice for the poor in accordance with the directions of Dr. Shen Fu. His officers tended to this for him, obeying like automatons. The red marks at the sides of his neck caused him almost constant discomfiture. Occasionally they bled slightly.
Every day he stopped at the Drug Shop of a Thousand Years to talk with the learned doctor.
He asked the doctor to examine the marks on his neck.
Shen Fu smiled as he gazed upon them. "You have nothing to worry about," he said.
"Strangely enough some of the officers of my staff are similarly marked."
"You are blood brothers. It is a good omen." He did not bother adding, that he meant a good omen for China. After a moment, he continued, "When the flesh separates, you will be able to swim even better."
Nishikori was little perturbed at the prospect, on the contrary he seemed well satisfied. He walked out into the garden to the large artificial fish pond. The water was like clear turquoise. The gold fish reflected the sun. How clear and cool the water was with here and there a pond lily or a lotus.
His throat was dry. Slowly he walked around the pool, gazing at the shimmering fish. He was so fascinated, that hours passed without his knowledge.
Meanwhile his men were acting in a peculiar fashion. All seemed keenly elated. They cast aside their guns, their interest in war had evaporated. Many of their necks were bleeding slightly from small slits below the ears. As though they were fleeing from a plague infested city, they rushed down to the river's edge. Some were running. But it was a joyous rout, many were laughing. A few tried to sing but their throats were too dry for that. And in their wake, walked many of the people of Hangchow, uninterested in their actions, but still bent on one of the great occasions of the year, to watch the Hangchow Bore at the autumnal equinox, that strangest and most startling phenomenon of nature along the entire Asiatic coast.
The estuary at the mouth of the Ch'ien T'ang River from Yangtze Cape on the
